Besides, we are wasting time.
We've got to get back to tea.

I'll take the revolver for a bit.' Maisie would have wept on the least encouragement, but Dick's indifference, albeit his hand was shaking as he picked up the pistol, restrained her.

She lay panting on the beach while Dick methodically bombarded the breakwater.

'Got it at last!' he exclaimed, as a lock of weed flew from the wood.
'Let me try,' said Maisie, imperiously.

'I'm all right now.' They fired in turns till the rickety little revolver nearly shook itself to pieces, and Amomma the outcast--because he might blow up at any moment--browsed in the background and wondered why stones were thrown at him.